


Chasing Pavements

by iwanttowriteyouafic



Series: Best Friend's Brother AU [2]
Category: One Direction (Band), Zayn Malik (Musician)
Genre: Age Difference, Angst, Bottom Zayn, M/M, Older Zayn, Pining, Smut, Top Liam, Younger Liam, they're both in their twenties tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-29
Updated: 2016-05-29
Packaged: 2018-07-10 22:18:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7010617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwanttowriteyouafic/pseuds/iwanttowriteyouafic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zayn whirled around in surprise, finding Liam only metres away and coming closer. As he approached, Zayn could see that the way the boy carried himself had changed astronomically since he’d last seen him six years ago. His shoulders were square and his back was straight, making him look tall and confident and drawing the attention of women wherever he walked.</p><p>He stopped just in front of Zayn with a smile on his face, clearly not dreading this reunion as much as Zayn was. “Hey.”</p><p>(Or the one where Zayn and Liam meet again after six years and things spiral downhill quickly.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chasing Pavements

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! This is a sequel to 'Make You Know My Love', although you don't need to have read it to read this one. There's just some references and back story and stuff.
> 
> *** PLEASE DO NOT REPOST ANY OF MY WORKS ON OTHER SITES WITHOUT GETTING MY PERMISSION FIRST. Do not post copies of my work on livejournal, wattpad, fanfiction.net or anywhere, even if you have the intention of giving me credit. I do not want them on those sites at this point in time. So far, I have only given permission for my fic 'Pride' to be translated into Russian and posted on a Russian fanfiction website. Any other copies of my work that I come across will be reported. Please don't do it. It really sucks that I have to even write this note. ***

“So, what do you think?” she asked.

Zayn was speechless, to say the least. Here his best friend was, awaiting Zayn’s reaction nervously while she fiddled with her engagement ring. They were at Nic’s apartment, Zayn sitting on her bed while Nicola stood there in her wedding dress, the one she’d be wearing down the aisle in just three days. It was long and white and figure hugging, no patterns or frills to taint the perfect silk. Thin straps were covered by her long hair, and Zayn could almost picture the veil flowing down past his shoulders. She looked gorgeous, and Zayn was going to cry.

“Don’t you fucking cry, Malik,” she hissed, voice choked. “You’ll mess up my makeup.”

“I’m just so happy,” Zayn told her. He stood up and held her hands in his, grinning wetly. “You’ve found the perfect guy, and you’re going to have the perfect wedding, and you’re going to have the most fucking awesome kids running around because I’ll be there to help raise them.”

“Not for a few years,” Nic told him with a teary laugh. “And you’re not going anywhere near my kids. I’d rather their first words not be ‘ _fight me, motherfucker’_ , thanks.”

Zayn pouted. “You can’t separate me from my hypothetical God children.”

“I’m getting married in three days, I can do whatever I want,” Nic reminded him. She grinned. “Speaking of, we’ve got a rehearsal dinner to attend. Go get your suit on.”

“Need help taking off your dress?” Zayn asked, gesturing to the almost invisible zipper.

Nic snorted. “Best not. I’m not wearing a bra, and I don’t want to have to deal with you screaming hysterically at the sight of tits.”

Zayn pulled a face and laughed sarcastically, making Nic giggle as she disappeared into the closet to get changed. Zayn made his way down the hall and into the apartment’s guest room, where he’d been staying for the last couple of days. Well, sort of – with Nic’s fiancée wanting to go the whole nine yards and spend the week sleeping separately so that the wedding was heightened, or something, Zayn had ended up sleeping in Nic’s bed while they caught up on gossip and reminded each other why they were best friends.

Things had been hard since Zayn had moved to London for a job (his dream job, designing album and books covers for a moderately big publishing company) and left Nic behind, and their Skype calls just didn’t smother the ache in his chest. He’d hit an all timed low when Nic told him she was engaged via Skype. He hadn’t even met her boyfriend at that point, had only heard Nic’s gushing about how brilliant he was. And it hit Zayn hard that he’d missed this whole entire era of his best friend’s life. He’d talked his boss into giving him a Friday off so that he could duck back down to Wolverhampton for a few days, and there’d been a lot of crying and hugging and dozens of people calling them co-dependent, but Zayn finally got to see Nic in person and met her new fiancée (and sort of fell in love with him, in the way you fall in love with someone joining your family).

But now four years of dating and a one year engagement had come and gone, and Zayn was here for the wedding week. And fuck, he was almost as nervous as Nic was (although for completely different reasons). One of the main contributors to him deciding to leave would be at the wedding, and a part of the bridal party, no less.

Zayn tried not to think about it.

There were two suit bags hanging in the mostly-bare closet. On the left, a ridiculously expensive tuxedo that he’d rented from the bridal store Nic had decided all the groomsmen and her Man of Honour should get their clothes from. On the other hook, a much cheaper suit that was tailored and looked nice, but didn’t terrify Zayn as much (he was notorious for spilling things when he’s nervous, and at least with this suit he didn’t have to worry about forking out nearly eight hundred pounds if he got a drop of soup on the pants). He grabbed the latter and careful pulled it on, knowing that they wouldn’t have any time to iron it if he got any creases in it.

Adjusting the collar, he looked in the mirror. His shirt was done most of the way up, a dark purple button down that had two buttons open in the way Nic had suggested he wear it. The suit jacket and pants themselves were a dark grey that complemented his skin tone, and the shoes were a clean black and recently polished. He fixed the purple pocket square and styled his hair back neatly, admiring Nic’s styling choices.

“You ready, Nicky?” Zayn called from outside her doorway.

“Yep,” she said, stumbling out of her closet while she slid on a pair of heels. She used Zayn for support, letting out a huff when she was finished. She looked up, eyes wide and excited. “Ready to go?”

“Just give me a minute to take this in,” Zayn told her, holding her shoulders while he admired the flattering red dress, black heels, and sprinkling of silver jewellery that matched her engagement ring. He grinned, looking back at her face with a shrug. “I wanted to get a good look before Alex rips it off you.”

Nic shoved his shoulder and snorted. “Come on, dingus. I want to see my future husband.”

+

When they walked into the reception hall, there was a lot of cheering. Nicola’s mother was almost immediately crying, pulling Nicola into a tight hug and then moving onto Zayn, sobbing about how much she’d missed him. Geoff clapped him on the back when she finally pulled back, making Zayn promise to come find him so they could catch up and he could hear about Zayn’s work. Zayn agreed easily, chest aching from how much he’d missed them. He lost sight of Nic soon after Alex had shown up and whisked her away (probably to go make out somewhere), but Zayn was preoccupied with being passed from person to person as he caught up with friends from school, from uni, family members of Nic’s that he’d met over the last few years. Louis was there, too, with his boyfriend of three years, Harry, charming the pants out of some of Alex’s extended family. When Louis caught his eye, he made his excuses to Harry and the people he was talking to, before he was jogging over and pulling Zayn into a hug.

“I’ve missed you, fucker,” Louis told him, holding him firmly.

Zayn clapped his back affectionately, breathing in Louis’ expensive cologne. “Missed you too, man. How’ve you been?”

“Same old,” Louis said, pulling back and flicking his hair out of his face. “Well, I made junior partner at the firm.”

“You already told me that. Like, seven times, at least,” Zayn told him with a laugh.

Louis punched him in the shoulder. “Texting it doesn’t count, asshole.”

“Hey, you could’ve moved to London with me,” Zayn pointed out. His smile softened, eyes falling on Harry over his shoulder. “But I’m glad you didn’t. You’ve done well here, man.”

“Yeah,” Louis said quietly, following Zayn’s gaze. He was smiling gently, eyes unable to leave his boyfriend. “He’s the one, I reckon.”

“Really?” Zayn asked, but he wasn’t surprised. Zayn had been receiving constant texts from literally the moment Louis first saw Harry, where the older boy was in an absolute panic because he was expected to train someone who he wanted to fuck the brains out of.

“Yeah,” Louis answered, nodding confidentially. “He gives the best blowjobs.”

Zayn laughed loudly, smacking Louis lightly on the shoulder. Louis became quickly distracted by the way Harry was gesturing as he told a (painfully slow looking) story, so Zayn looked around to see if there was anyone he’d missed. He was just about to ask Louis if he knew where Niall was, wanting to catch up with the co-chef of Nic’s restaurant, when his eyes caught the sight of the most attractive man he’d ever laid eyes on.

He was too far away to make out clear details, but what he could see was enough. He was moderately tall and well built, wearing a perfectly fitting suit with the button-down pressing firmly across his chest when he reached up to itch his temple, and a thin, black tie settled neatly around his neck and over his sternum. His hair was short but thick and accented by his freshly shaven face. There was a chunky, silver watch around his left wrist that gave him a classy edge, but no other visible jewellery that Zayn could make out. So not married, then.

He saw in his peripheral as Louis followed his gaze, shaking his head in amazement. “He sure has grown up, hasn’t he?”

“What?” Zayn asked distractedly, mouth watering as he watched the man sip at a thin glass of champagne.

“Nicola’s brother,” Louis said. Zayn jumped in surprise.

“Where?” Zayn tried not to hiss, voice cracking a little bit.

 

Louis gave him a funny look, and gestured to the man Zayn had been staring at. “You were just looking at him, bro. Jesus, Zayn, you’re twenty-six – surely you aren’t already losing your sight.”

Zayn ignored him, instead staring at the man intently. If he squinted his eyes just so, he thinks he could almost work out a tell-tale birthmark on the man’s neck.

“How old is Liam meant to be now?” Louis wondered out loud.

“Twenty-two,” Zayn said immediately. He swallowed thickly. “He’s twenty-two.”

Just then, the man’s eyes fanned around the room and landed on Zayn. His hand paused mid-way to taking a sip of his drink, his entire face freezing into an expression of shock. Zayn couldn’t look away, because the man had dark, chocolate eyes and bushy eyebrows that never failed to leave him as an open book. It was Liam.

“We should go say hi,” Louis suggested. He grabbed two drinks off of a platter a waiter offered him, and pressed one into Zayn’s frozen hand.

“No,” Zayn said, shaking his head and finally tearing his eyes away Liam’s curious gaze. He forced a teasing smile onto his face when Louis looked at him in confusion. “I’d rather talk to Harry, now that I know he’s _the_ _one_.”

“Come off it,” Louis chuckled, taking a sip of his scotch. “You don’t have a choice, anyway, because he’s walking over here.”

Zayn whirled around in surprise, finding Liam only metres away and coming closer. As he approached, Zayn could see that the way the boy carried himself had changed astronomically since he’d last seen him six years ago. His shoulders were square and his back was straight, making him look tall and confident and drawing the attention of women wherever he walked.

He stopped just in front of Zayn with a smile on his face, clearly not dreading this reunion as much as Zayn was. “Hey.”

His voice was so fucking deep now, God. “Hey,” Zayn said, voice tight. He cleared his throat. “Long time no see.”

“Yeah,” Liam said, a funny look on his face. He looked over Zayn’s shoulder at Louis, sidestepping him to shake the older man’s hand. “Mr Tomlinson.”

Zayn turned and watched Louis scowl comically. “I’m only twenty-eight, Payne. Don’t make me feel old,” he said without heat.

“Just odd to call you Louis now,” Liam said with a laugh.

Louis saw Zayn’s confused look. “Liam interned at my firm once he finished school, and had to call me Mr Tomlinson for about three months before he quit.”

“I didn’t quit,” Liam told him, grinning. “I just left to do something else.”

Louis gave him a look as if to ask ‘what’s the difference’, making Liam chuckle. Zayn looked between them, put out by the fact that his ex-roommate and his best friend’s younger brother had all these memories without him. Meanwhile, Louis reminisced about a time where Liam spilt juice all down his own shirt before a big conference meeting, and the two of them had to run across the street and buy a new shirt in under ten minutes. Zayn laughed in all the right places, but mainly he was just entranced by this new, older Liam, who was endlessly confident and able to smile without any weight on his shoulders. Zayn’s heart was swelling in pride rapidly, which it had no right to do. Zayn had barely known Liam before he left. He can’t be proud of someone who he walked out on. He doesn’t have a right to be.

Just as the story was wrapping up, Harry walked over and wrapped an arm around Louis’ waist. He almost immediately let go so that he could lunge at Zayn and press a dozen kisses to his cheeks and forehead, before Louis was laughing and pulling him back. Zayn wiped his face dramatically, making Harry giggle.

“Mind if I steal Louis?” Harry asked, looking down at his boyfriend fondly. “His family want a group photo with the bride and groom. All seven siblings, just to be chaotic.”

“You love my seven siblings,” Louis said with a pout.

“I love that there’s a five year old with the name Doris running around,” Harry said with a snigger. Louis pinched his side in retaliation. They wondered off towards where Louis’ mum and step dad were trying to round up the rest of their children, smiling in embarrassment as Ernest kept running off.

Zayn became acutely aware that he and Liam were now alone. Up-close, Liam was even more painfully attractive. Zayn was having a hard time trying to process the fact that this was the same boy he dragged himself away from six years ago.

“So,” Zayn said, because he needed to do something other than just stare. “How’ve you been, Liam?”

“Alright,” Liam said mildly. His face looked a little tight, like he was uncomfortable.

And Zayn remembered that, shit, Liam wasn’t particularly happy when Zayn broke things off. Surely he’s gotten over him, though? (Or maybe he’s like Zayn, who’s haunted by the memories of that rainy day in Wolverhampton, and is only able to go a short period of time before he remembered what he did with Liam, to Liam, images of an underage boy with curly hair on his knees in his car while Zayn struggled to remember that it was wrong to want Liam in that way.)

“Nic says that you’re doing book covers and stuff,” Liam said conversationally. “She showed me some of your work. Looks cool.”

“Yeah?” Zayn said. He was enthralled by the way Liam’s mouth moved when he talked, more pronounced and endearing than he remembers. “What’ve you been up to, then?”

Liam ducked his head, a small blush bleeding into his cheeks. “I, um, went down the music route. ‘m a producer.”

 

“Really?” Zayn asked, grinning. He fought the urge to wrap Liam into a hug. “That’s amazing, mate. I’m happy for you. How did that all happen?”

“Thanks,” Liam said, smiling shyly. “Started with that recording mic you gave me, I think. I made a few demos with it and Nic convinced her boss at the old restaurant to play them, and one thing led to another and a production company heard and gave me a ring. Like a cliché story, you know?”

Zayn thinks there’s nothing cliché about Liam, not really. “That’s incredible,” Zayn told him earnestly, chest swelling with pride. “Going to be the next Simon Cowell, then?”

“Not quite,” Liam said with a small snort, grinning at Zayn with crinkled eyes. Zayn noticed with a hitched breath that the man before him actually had to look down to hold eye contact. The tables have sure turned. Liam cleared his throat. “But, yeah. Thanks for that mic. Reason I’m where I am now.”

Zayn shook his head. “You’re the reason why you’ve done so well. It’s all you, Liam.”

Liam went to open his mouth to say something but was cut off by the wedding planner clapping her hands loudly. “Time to get started, ladies and gentlemen.”

+

Zayn had to walk down the aisle with Liam. He had to fucking link arms with Liam and walk with him down the aisle, because Zayn was Nic’s Man of Honour and Liam was Alex’s Best Man.

(“Alex wanted Liam to be there,” Nic had told him when Zayn asked curiously. “His friends all were up in arms about it, but Alex insisted that Liam be there, because Liam’s the reason we met. Did I tell you that story?”

“No,” Zayn said, shaking his head.

“Alex was Liam’s boxing trainer,” Nic said. “And literally the moment I broke up with Charlie, he dragged me down to introduce us.”

Zayn frowned in confusion. “I thought you met when he ran into you at the supermarket?”

“He purposely ran into me,” Nicola said with a quiet giggle. “I didn’t remember him at the time, but he remembered me.”)

“Won’t it look odd?” Zayn tried futilely. “Everyone else in the bridal party will be in a male-and-female pair, except for me and Liam. Don’t you want consistency? Appease to some sort of aesthetic?”

Nicola gave him an odd look. “Are you, a gay man, trying to persuade me to not let two men walk down an aisle together?”

“That’s not the point I’m trying to make,” Zayn said. (He himself doesn’t know what point he’s trying to make, but still.)

Again, Nicola looks at him oddly. “What’s the real problem? I thought you liked Liam. You guys seemed to get along when he was younger.”

Zayn doesn’t know what to say, so he says nothing. He just dutifully returns to his position at the front of the church when the wedding planner lady calls him over. Liam is already there, shuffling a little uncomfortably while the people around him move in a flurry, everyone keyed up and excited about the wedding quickly approaching. He looks up when he realises Zayn’s been watching him. Zayn looks away.

“Zack, right?” the wedding planner asks, approaching him.

“Zayn,” he corrects.

“Yes, yes,” the woman says impatiently. She seems quite frazzled, looking between him and Liam. “While this set-up is unorthodox, it is doable. So, which of you is the Maid- er, Man of Honour?”

“That would be me,” Zayn answers.

The woman pushes her pointed glasses up her equally pointed nose. “And will you be holding a bouquet?”

Liam snorts a little.

“No idea,” Zayn says.

“I think you will have to,” the woman says. “We need some form of consistency, after all.”

“I could wear a wig, if you’d like?” Zayn offers. He smiles pleasantly to hide his sarcasm.

The woman eyes him narrowly. “That won’t be necessary,” she says. Then, she turns to Liam with a much brighter smile. “You’re all ready to go?”

“Of course,” Liam says, smiling back. “Anything else I can help with?”

“No, Mr Payne, you’ve done more than enough to help,” the woman says.

They continue talking for a bit, but Zayn’s mind is caught on her referring to Liam as _Mr Payne_. God, he really has grown up, hasn’t he? The thickness of his body, the sharpness of his face, the newfound confidence that must have taken him years to acquire, all were clues to how much Liam had change over the last six years. He wasn’t a boy anymore, Zayn realised. He was a man, and a much better one than Zayn was at his age.

“Time for the run,” the woman suddenly announced, clapping her hands together. Everyone moved quickly then, women lining up in front of Zayn and men in front of Liam. Zayn eyed Nic and Geoff hanging around the back, waiting, laughing quietly between themselves. Zayn smiled softly, so thankful that he gets to share this with his best friend, even if her little brother might give him an aneurysm.

Instead of playing the ‘Here Comes the Bride’ song or anything, the angry wedding planner just called their cues as they were needed. Couple after couple walked forward, slowing down or speeding up or straightening the posture depending on what the wedding planner wanted. Then, suddenly, Liam and Zayn were being cued.

Zayn hooked his arm gently with Liam’s, revelling in the thick, taut muscle against him. Liam was warm and sturdy, grinning at Niall, who clapped wildly and pretended to cry as they walked down the aisle. Zayn felt breathless, not sure what to focus on more: the cheery atmosphere of the room, the way Liam was grinning at everyone, how Zayn felt so comfortable being by Liam’s side, how Zayn couldn’t help but think about how much bigger than him Liam was now. His mind of a mess, causing him to stumble a couple of times. Each time, Liam would tighten his grip on Zayn’s arm and look down at him in concern. Zayn would just look away abashedly. Neither of them spoke.

Then they were at the end of the aisle, and were separated to either side of the arch that Nic and Alex would be getting married under. Zayn then watched as Nic and Geoff walked down the aisle. (‘Walked’ being a loose term, as they both made a point of lunging ridiculously down the aisle to break the air of tension in the room. Nic had always hated having so much attention on herself, and Zayn didn’t miss her blush as Alex watched her fondly.)

“From here the priest will do his bit, and then you guys will do your vows,” the wedding planner said once Nic was standing in front of Zayn. “Then Alex, you will lift Nicola’s veil, and give her a nice, tasteful kiss.”

“And then we party,” Louis cheered.

“And then we _orderly_ make our way to the reception,” the woman corrected. “We should probably practice with the veil, shouldn’t we?”

“Sorry, Lynette,” Liam said suddenly. “I left it back in my car. Would you like me to grab it?”

“Yes, please,” the woman said. “Maybe take Zack with you so the lace doesn’t drag across the ground.”

“His name is Zayn,” Liam said. Then he froze. Zayn was frozen too. Being somewhere with Liam without people around to moderate their behaviour was probably a bad idea. Zayn wasn’t sure what he’d say, what he’d do.

“Right, yes, take him,” Lynette said distractedly, already walking off.

Zayn was still reluctant, but Nic shoved ‘subtly’ at his shoulder until he finally stumbled forward, dumbly following Liam back down the aisle and out the door. They didn’t talk. Zayn just followed him, a couple steps behind, and tried not to watch the way Liam walked, or become fixated on how broad Liam’s shoulders were. He was so concentrated on this, in fact, that when Liam pulled a set of keys from his pocket and clicked a sleek black car open, Zayn didn’t stop himself before blurting out: “You can drive?”

Liam doesn’t even look at him. “Yes.”

Zayn cleared his throat, and tried to think of how to save face. His eyes are focussed on the tattered boxing glove keyring in Liam’s hand. “Have you had your license for long?”

“Yes,” Liam repeats, sounding a little annoyed. “I’m in my twenties, Zayn.”

“I can see that,” Zayn says. Liam looks back at him, then, an odd look in his eyes before he was turning away to open the backseat door and grab the veil. He stayed there for a while, though, not emerging even though Zayn could see the veil in his hands. “Everything okay?” Zayn asks.

“It’s caught on something,” Liam says. “I don’t want to rip it.”

“Here, let me help,” Zayn says. He squeezes into the space available next to Liam’s body to get a better look at the veil. It’s barely caught on the seatbelt buckle, but Liam looks so worried that it might as well be ripped in half.

Zayn reaches forward with nimble fingers and gently pries the lace from the buckle, smoothing the creases delicately while Liam cradles the rest of the fabric. He turns to Liam with a proud grin once they’ve gotten it through, unscathed, and finds himself mere inches from Liam’s face.

They’re both hung in suspense for a moment. Zayn just stares at Liam, at the face that has changed so much but the eyes and lips that haven’t. He remembers that day in Zayn’s car, when Zayn had felt like a magnet, being drawn to Liam like he hadn’t been drawn to anyone before. He tries to remember exactly how soft Liam’s lips are, and how warm his mouth was, and how contagious his laugh had been.

Liam pulls away before he could linger on the thought.

“Sorry,” Zayn says, even though he’s not sure why.

Liam just clears his throat. “Let’s get this inside, yeah?”

Zayn carries one end of the veil and makes sure to stand a fair few feet behind Liam to try and get some distanced. No good would come from him overstepping the boundary.

The veil is almost immediately taken from their hands, and then they’re ushered to the bar where there’s an open tab. Zayn is way too surprised when Liam orders something with alcohol, even if it’s only a rum and coke. They sip at their drinks silently. Zayn tunes himself out, watching as Louis’ mum tries to clean Doris’ cheek while Ernest pulled at her dress and instantly repeated her name, making her smile tightly. Zayn was just about to go over and help when Liam next spoke.

“I idolised you, you know,” Liam says. Zayn looks over and finds him watching the Tomlinsons, too. “I used to think you were the most amazing guy.”

Zayn took a sip of his drink. Swallowed thickly. “And now?”

Liam just shrugs and ducks his head.

It’s quiet for a while, until Zayn points over at the rest of the Tomlinson children. “You see Lottie?” he asks. Liam looks up. Nods. “Would you have sex with her?”

Liam looks disgusted. “Of course not.”

“Because she’s too young, right?” Zayn agreed. He takes another sip of his drink. “Even if she was the greatest, most intelligent and beautiful person in the world, you would never be able to look past how young she is.”

Liam considers this. “Is that how you felt with me?”

“Yeah,” Zayn says, nodding. He angles his body towards Liam, hoping that the boy understands what he’s trying to say. “You were the sweetest kid, Liam. You were just too young.”

Liam’s lips quirk up into a smirk. “And now?”

Zayn’s mouth parts in surprise. He doesn’t get to answer, though, because Louis is suddenly pushing a microphone into his chest and demanding he give a toast to the happy couple.

+

Zayn and Liam don’t talk much for the rest of the evening, but Zayn finds himself short of breath anyway. Every few minutes he’ll find Liam watching him with this new sort of intensity, or he’ll suddenly find himself watch the boy, admiring the thick set of his frame and the perfectly tailored suit he wore. Zayn would be dancing with Karen and would suddenly lock eyes with Liam, who was dancing with some guy Zayn didn’t recognise. Then, later, Zayn would be ordering a drink and Liam’s hand would be on the small of his back for just a second as he asked for a glass of water before he was walking off again without a word. The entire night was dictated by small touches and heated looks, all of which Zayn didn’t know what to do with.

“You okay?” Nic asks, appearing by his side.

“’course,” Zayn says, smiling instantly. He wraps an arm around Nicola’s shoulders, admiring the party around them. “Having fun?”

“More or less,” she answers. Zayn frowns at her in confusion until she pouts playfully. “I’ve been wanting to shag Alex all night but I can’t.”

“Three more days,” Zayn reminds her.

“Easy for you to say. You could have sex with anyone here,” Nic grumbles. Then her face brightens. “Speaking of – found anyone you want me to introduce you to?”

“Nah,” Zayn answers. He takes a long drink and tries not to think of Liam.

“I bet I could find you someone,” Nic insisted. She looked around the room. “Maybe. We’ll see.”

“Don’t strain yourself,” Zayn says. “I’m more than fine to just hang out with your family.”

“I know,” she says. “But I figured one of us might as well get shagged.”

“I’m sure Louis will,” he says, nodding over to where Louis and Harry were giggling into each other’s necks while they danced.

“You’re sure Louis will what?” Liam asks, wandering over.

“Get laid,” Nic informs him. “Considering none of us will be.”

It’s then, when Nic looks away, that Liam raises an eyebrow at Zayn. Zayn doesn’t know what to do with it, so he clears his throat and excuses himself to the bathroom.

He walks down a hallway blindly, not really paying much attention when he walks into an empty room rather than the bathroom. But he doesn’t mind, truthfully. He just needed to escape for a moment, to have a breather before he makes a move on Liam like he wants to.

But he doesn’t get to have a moment to himself. He doesn’t get to think or calm down or work anything out, because suddenly the door is opening again, and Liam only gives him a second’s notice before he’s grabbing Zayn’s face with both his hands and kissing him.

Zayn melts almost instantly. Liam’s lips ae warm and soft and insistent, filled with just as much heat as he remembers but thankfully void of that guilt-inducing inexperience that had made Zayn’s skin crawl all those years ago. His hands on Zayn’s jaw were firm but gentle, telling Zayn that he was sure about what he wanted but would stop if Zayn asked him to.

Zayn didn’t.

Instead, he slid a leg in between Liam’s and ground into him, making them both gasp a little.

“Fuck,” Liam murmured. His mouth left Zayn’s and instead trailed down his jaw, mouthing but not biting. No marks, then.

Zayn just makes a low noise, pulling Liam in closer by the labels of his suit jacket. Then he stops and pulls back. “Liam, we can’t-“

“I’m older now,” Liam says firmly. “What else is your excuse?”

Zayn searches his mind, but he’s out of excuses. He’s never been very good at telling Liam no, and the years have only made it worse.

So he pulls Liam in again, curling his hands into Liam’s hair and kissing him desperately. Liam smiles against his lips, arms moving to curl around Zayn’s back and pull them closer together, not an inch of space between them. Zayn’s head swam from the contact. He could feel how thick and taut and strong Liam was, even with so many layers of clothing between them. He wanted Liam to take it all off more than anything.

It wasn’t long before Liam was palming at the bulge of Zayn’s pants, groaning from the thickness of it. “Can I fuck you?” he asks lowly. “Wanna show you how much I’ve grown up.”

“Fuck,” is all Zayn is able to manage. His hands shake when he reaches down to unbutton Liam’s pants, feeling exactly how hard Liam is. He feels bigger than what Zayn can remember, and only became thicker the longer Zayn ran his fingers over his clothed length.

“C’mon, Zayn, don’t tease,” Liam groans, resting their foreheads together while he breathes harshly. Zayn complies easily, finally unzipping Liam fully and freeing his cock from his confines. Liam’s cock looks obscenely bigger, too, making Zayn’s mouth water a little.

“Do you have lube?” Zayn asks once his own trousers and briefs were pushed past his bum.

“Yeah, hang on,” Liam says. He kisses the side of Zayn’s neck quickly before digging through his pants pocket and retrieving a condom and a sachet of lube. Zayn raised an eyebrow, but Liam only shrugged. “I decided to come prepared when I found out you would be here.”

Stupidly, this made Zayn grin. “Did you plan this, Liam?”

“Mmhmm,” Liam nods, crowding Zayn against the wall. “I’ve been picturing this for ages.”

Zayn’s breath catches in his throat. “Yeah?”

Liam turns him, pressing his face to the wall. “Yeah,” he says quietly, lowly. Zayn feels one of the thick hands on his hips trail lower until it was ghosting over his ass, palming gently. He slowly pushes a finger against Zayn’s rim, making him gasp a little in pleasure.

Zayn had to bite down on his wrist when Liam pushed in a first finger. With nothing but spit to help ease the glide, Zayn found himself overwhelmed from the burn of the intrusion, only relaxing when Liam crowded into him further and mouthed at the back of his neck. Liam made sure to rip open the lube sachet to ease the second finger, whispering sweet nothings against the nape of Zayn’s neck while Zayn screwed his eyes shut and tried to stop his knees from shaking.

“I used to finger myself while thinking about you,” Liam says conversationally. He pushes his fingers in shallowly, only narrowly avoiding the spot that Zayn was desperate for him to touch. “Thinking about how good you’d fuck me, or me fucking you.”

Zayn holds back a moan. “How long ago?”

Liam smirks against the shell of his ear. “Last week.”

A moan is ripped from Zayn’s throat when Liam finally fucks his fingers into Zayn’s prostate, relentless in his assault. Zayn was left to whimper against the wall, fingers scrambling for purchase. “C’mon, Li,” Zayn begs. “Fuck me, please.”

Liam just adds in another finger. The burn is still there, but it’s balanced out by the absolute fucking pleasure of Liam’s fingers fucking him just right. Liam kept a steady rhythm, allowing Zayn to push his hips back against his digits, moaning out from how good it all felt.

When Liam pulled his fingers out, Zayn let out a god forsaken _whine_. But then he heard the tell-tale sound of a condom being ripped open and he snapped his mouth closed. Pushing his ass out a little, he looked back just in time to watch Liam slide the latex down his thick cock before pressing forward into the heat of Zayn’s ass.

He felt so fucking big. Zayn didn’t know whether it was from his actual size or just because he hasn’t been fucked in a while, but either way he found himself clenching desperately around Liam’s cock and hiding his face in the crook of his elbow.

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” Liam whispered, halting himself. Zayn just let out a needy noise and reached around to grab Liam’s hip and pull him in closer.

Minutes later, Liam was snapping his hips into Zayn’s without abandon. Zayn reached back to hold the back of Liam’s neck, resting his own head on Liam’s shoulder while the man sucked on his neck and fucked into him with the type of rhythm that had Zayn’s eyes rolling back into his head. “Fuck, _Leeyum_ ,” he gasped.

“I’ve got you,” Liam moaned back. He snaked a hand in between Zayn and the wall to pump Zayn’s cock in time with his thrusts. Zayn moaned wildly.

“Shit, Li, I’m gonna cum,” he groaned. He could feel the coil in his stomach tightening, threatening to explode at any moment. Liam just fucked him harder. “Liam, I… fuck, fuck, fuck-“

He came with a cry and Liam’s name on his tongue, closing his eyes as white-hot pleasure consumed him. Stars danced behind his eyes, only made better by the feel of Liam still fucking him through the aftershocks and kissing soothingly at his jaw. “So fucking fit,” Liam groaned. He wrapped an am more firmly around Zayn’s waist and pulled him further against his dick, still rabbiting into him with quick, sharp thrusts.

“Gonna cum for me, Li?” Zayn asked, clenching around Liam’s cock to help. “Gonna fill me up?”

“Fuck, _Zayn_ ,” Liam groaned out, his tightened grip on Zayn’s waist his only warning before he was cuming, whimpering into the crook of Zayn’s neck.

They stood there like that for a while. Zayn tried to catch his breath or stop his racing heart, but found he couldn’t do either. He never could with Liam.

Slowly, Liam pulled out of him. He found a box of tissues on a table behind them, and carefully wrapped up the used condom before chucking it in a bit.

“You could say that,” Liam responded. Zayn watched as a slow blush made its way to Liam’s cheeks, but the boy didn’t look away. No, they held each other’s gaze for a long moment, smiling quietly at each other while they processed what just happened.

“Li…” Zayn approached softly. He didn’t step closer, even if he wanted to.

Liam looked nervous. “Yeah?”

“After the wedding, I was wondering,” Zayn began, trying to muster some more confidence. “Would you like to, uh, catch up sometime? Like, as a date?”

Liam looked surprised. “You want to date me?”

“I do,” Zayn says, looking down. “This situation has been messed up from the beginning, but I really, really would like to.”

Liam doesn’t give him an answer then. In fact, he doesn’t give him an answer for days. Not until after they watch Nicola marry the man of her dreams. Not until after the wedding reception where Zayn is passed around to person after person and doesn’t get to talk to Liam the whole night.

No, it’s only when the majority of people have gone home, and Zayn’s on the street waiting for a cab. Then, and only then, does Liam approach him and slides a hand into his back pocket, asking quietly if he can go home to Zayn’s, too.

They don’t tell Nicola about it for months.


End file.
